Live another day
by Omela77
Summary: We all know what ended 9 season. Dean becomes a demon. It's horrible, but not the end of the world. Or the end? But here's what it would be if Sam decided to heal Dean cleansing ritual using Men of Letters? What would be next? The answer to this question would have been straightforward. It would not be the end. That would be just the beginning.


He squeezed the amulet on his thin leather cord with a trembling hand, he glared at his hand hurt, but it was right. He had to squeeze harder, firmer grasp on reality and do not give yourself to slip away. It was necessary to have a little patience. Even a little bit. At least one more day.

Dean sat on the bed, his back against the high headboard and closed his eyes. The room was dark, but he just wanted to sit with his eyes closed. This is the only thing that he could still do, creating a deceptive appearance of rest and relaxation. It was not so much need it as necessary to his brother. Sam clearly felt better when Dean behaved like a normal person, pretending to eat, or pretended to be asleep. This of course, it was all too obvious and Sam knew that he did not need food, he does not need sleep. But little things made smooth wrinkles fatigue and anxiety on Sam's face. Like a fool himself, it could gain extra strength for the next leap, for the next day of their crazy marathon. Dean saw Sam rushes, saw crawls out of his way as his straining every muscle, every gyrus of the brain just to drag them together through the next day to meet their goals. And Dean could not strike him, he could not give up and let go, he pulled it all together with him. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, finding that if he leveled his own deep breath and lay quietly for a while as if in a deep sleep, and his brother could not resist and what would be important not engaged, being close, it's his comforting and at some point, Dean had only to open his eyes to see that Sam is too asleep somewhere, buried in a table with papers or casually leaning on the bed.

And now, if he will turn his head in a dark room, the only source of light - Sam laptop on his lap. Pulls out of the darkness of its shape, sitting just on the next bed , leaning over on his back, with his fingers still on the keyboard, but with his head thrown back and eyes closed. Sam was asleep, he was too tired, he worked very hard, very hard tried, but it is still a living person and his recovery from sleep problems and worries, from the horrors and torments them with his brother lives. And now he looks so young, so calm, peaceful. Dean stood up and took a pillow from his bed, went to his brother. Gently lifted his head and shoulders from the hard wooden headboard, slipped a soft pillow under them, then returned to Sam's place, but has a more comfortable position. Then carefully took off his lap and closed his laptop, put on the nightstand next. Sam did not even wake up from their deep sleep exhausted, did not even flinch. Let gains strength, he needs it.

Dean crossed the room and sat down on a chair, standing near a small table in front of the two beds in a dark motel room. Hmm, just like in the good old days when they did not have their own home and dangled in the country as impala, snatching short nights in motels. As if it was all a terrible dream and he woke up just now. Dean put his elbow on the table and leaned on his chin, still staring at the sleeping brother.

Nightmare... their whole life, like an endless nightmare. Black antsy gloomy nightmare smeared in blood from top to bottom, in the sacrifices in retribution in an exorbitant price for their every misstep, for each of their mistake.

A nightmare that can not be stopped, only to learn to live in it, only to find inside it what you can keep. Then whom can resist. What will be a light in this endless darkness. What will give to all meaning...

Dean sat still and looked at him, at his meaning. In order for whom he held, for whom he fought and continued to exist, for the one who clutched at him as the last piece of land in the stormy ocean, for the one who saw in Dean his meaning, his purpose, his reason to exist on.

Dean saw it in his eyes, even when he thought that at last find peace that he would complete his journey to the only possible one for yourself at last, dying with a gun in his hand at the hands of a mad angel imagined himself a god. At that moment, when the angelic blade pierced through him and then when, besides his own ragged breaths, he heard his voice, severed vile slurp silence his last minutes. At that moment, everything fell into place. Sam came to him, he was with him. And nothing else mattered. And in fact pointless and stupid death in an attempt to just pull a little more time to Castiel with Gadriel got to angelic tablets and destroyed it, began to have meaning. Returned to their places. Did everything the way it should be. Suppose for a moment ... let on elusive together with his blood a minute death returned two of them to their places, made them brothers again joined them together into a coherent whole indivisible. As it should be.

And every second, every breath painful mild injury, every stumbling beat his heart, everything made sense, all he wore only one happiness... be...

Another shaky step in his hands, one heart beat under his hand, stay a little longer next to her brother, absorb and enjoy every last second, carry them all with him. Just tell him the most important, most importantly, that he is proud of them... But who they were, so what they have become and those who they are. And it was the most important, it was worth it... Sam to know...

And to die, let this world while still remaining brothers, still holding him, still supported by him...

And he did not frighten darkness into which he fell to the last breath, because he fell into the arms of his brother...

If he only knew ...

There is no end ...

That the end - it is not salvation.

Only new nightmare, only a new round of nightmare from which he awoke in wet darkness, driven acquaintances, relatives voice ... a voice that always tore it out of the clutches of the deadly claws of darkness engulfing the infinite abyss. Sam's voice.

Whether hell, whether it was a paradise. Turbid fake reality, tearing it between past and present, between something that he wanted to throw and what he did not want to become again. What was it? That he was tormented in hell intolerable torture or enveloped blinding grace? Eight hours without beginning or end, eight piercing pain and burning flares of light, eight long creepy moments waiting a new pain, a new torture, the new purification and salvation, both hated and wanted to kill and returning life. And only the voice, the voice of Sam, calling him on the side of black bloody mist shrouded his eyes, tears of impotent veil and meaningless words. Only he led him back through, eight ... through ... to infinity blinding flash, to evert soul cry and taste of blood on his lips, his blood, their blood...

By the time when reality suddenly returned to him with the speed of a bullet fired in the forehead. When he opened his eyes and saw Sam standing in front of him on his knees with a bloody hand, with madness and happiness in his eyes that it was all over, it all worked out ... to his brother, who just grabbed him and hugged, as if in last time... like the first time... and did not want to let go, despite the trembling hands, despite the frequent panic breathing, despite a crazy heart, willing to jump out of his chest. No matter what keep him, who returned him ... there. From where... it was not important at the moment. Dean's was the only important only to see him, hear him, feel him and know that the one for whom he was ready to die and there is one for whom he was ready to return.

And then ... then blue eyes angel standing behind Sam returned him peace, his light touch on the shoulder dipped it in the light of salvation rest, to sleep, I had to return his power and protect them to Sam and Castiel taken him from this place, away from this nightmare of fiendish traps, painted on the dirty floor of the sacred place of red paint, and darkness rest ... somewhere far away.

If he only knew...

They did not give him the opportunity to know everything. They told him only a part, they told him only the last minutes of his, as it turned out a long journey on the other side. Only that he became what he was most afraid of becoming, as a mark of Cain that poisoned his soul transformed into a demon and that they healed him, turned back, having a ritual of purification. But that was then, that was before he did what he was? They did not speak to him, they would not let him remember, they covered him this part of his life ... or "not life." Want to protect themselves, to protect him? But every time he tried to learn from them about it, they both, Cas and Sam, were silent, only in silent pain, splitting apart in their views, he understood that nothing good was not there. What was bad, it was painful, it was scary. But who? Who did he hurt? What he did? Who suffered during these hours of his "non-life", or days, or months?

He learns sooner or later he finds out, it's not hide, do not bury and lock on it.

Because it is still there, it is still in it, it still therein.

Purification ritual was not for him deliverance, salvation.

It was only a stepping stone, the endless stairs leading back up out of the darkness of the abyss.

Dean rubbed his right hand. It was still there, bloody mark of Cain, it still eats him from the inside, burns his hand, his body and his soul from its biting little piece with only one purpose, with only one ruthless desire and passion to bring him back.

Curse was still in place, nothing could cure him. And it could come back again for new circle... in a worn-out carousel of death and fear, of horror and suffering. And it slowly returned. With every second he felt it, like the first time. As it sucks the life out of him a piece, one after another, like a countdown.

Therefore, in such a hurry Sam, so they almost did not stay in this crazy race for time. Ran ahead of him, trying to grab something incorporeal, for ghostly opportunity for one simple thing, for hope.

They believed they had hoped. And Sam and Castiel were sure that it would be right that returned him his own pure human soul, they can gain time and defeat the evil to dwell in it, they can find a way to save Dean from him.

Castiel so infinitely lost somewhere in heaven there rushing from one end and rubbing calluses on his new wings in search of an answer in search of a way to heal Dean. How well they were able to get him the grace, Dean thought, rubbing his eyes and fingers cannot keep a soft smile at the memory of his best friend, funny, mysterious as Yoda, ridiculous and naive, but courageous and brave angel. Castiel have not had a chance to tell him more about it, he only said that Metatron eventually forced to pay his spell and return to heaven its former status, and all the angels of their nature and wings. They are then returned to his own grace to Cas. Even Hannah helped him in this, the one who asked to kill Dean in exchange for trust. That's really ironic. Cas trusted her and she helped him in the end, he helped them all their brothers and sisters. Probably because of the way it should be. Probably because so do brothers. Dean certainly caught his feathery ass and a calm evening and handed him a bottle of beer, make tell everything in detail. All that happened to him and Sam at the time ... when Dean was on the other side...

But it will happen, only when they can catch up, over than rushing already ... how much? Month? Two month? He seems to have lost count. In the morning he asks Sam.

Outside the window, there was a soft knock, first rare and almost inaudible, then more frequent, rising, rain is born, wanted to get to them in a dark room, knocking on the glass compassionately. And keeping track of their frustrated tears on a transparent surface, ran off into the bottom, into the ground to give something new life.

Dean got up and walked to the window, looking at the flickering soft shadows on the track running thin water on blurred almost black sky and the distant lights. There was life. It flowed smoothly and currently measured, swam at your own pace, not knowing and not wondering about where it seeks. It just was. And it's just going to happen.

As he was. Now he just had to be continued and further. In order to then live to Sam also lived. To all of them together could continue to live and do what is intended.

He honestly and sincerely proud of his younger brother.

Now standing in a dark quiet room motel somewhere on the border between the states, he felt that Sam now drags them both, that he moves them forward, that he believes in him, that he believes in himself and gives everything he can, for his brother. As he always did Dean. As it should be. And now that it was not scary, it was solvable, because they were together, and so there was no more insurmountable obstacles.

Dean winced and suppressed desire unbearable painful cough, a fist pressed to his lips... turned. No, Sam did not wake up. Let him sleep, he needs a rest. Not worth it now twitch matter what Dean gets sick again, he can suffer a few hours until the morning to brother got him a much-needed vacation.

Let him then will swear when Dean will not be able to hide his physical pain and weakness, but it will be soon. And maybe not even happen if they succeed. Sam already got something planned for tomorrow and not only managed to tell the poor man fell asleep. It can wait until morning.

He braced himself. Damn! All the same, it was painful. Cursed mark reached for him each time with renewed vigor reducing its burning intervals to murder and blood hunger. But this is not worth talking to Sam, still plenty of time.

From the moment they returned soul Dean to its former state of... well, not the former, then it was before death and transformation into a full-fledged demon... they have known one unpleasant feature, the mark remained in place and started all over again. Under the new poison his mind and corrupt his soul, intending to take revenge and to get what it needed blood and death. Perhaps it was part of the plan, which is so reluctant to share Sam and Cas. But the second part of the plan for it was crystal clear. They had to find a way to get rid of the mark in all ways keeping Dean in his human condition. While they only had a lot of different theories, several sources on the ground and in the sky and a lot of obscure and unstudied until the tips on this topic. One of the versions were searching Cain as the primary source of all this nightmare. They were going to ... uh, make ... ask him to return it as it was something, pick up the back mark? In general, at least get a lot of answers to a lot of questions even more.

Dean as he was sure that Cain himself soon call him. After all, he promised him to come back and kill it with the blade. And he always kept his promises ... regardless of the consequences. For him, this meeting and the promise dormant another glimmer of hope. Hope that treacherously get out when it was particularly bad on evert his insides gushed pain or fluttering in a fit of ecstasy on the first blade has finally sunk into the soft flesh of someone, taking life. In moments of weakness. In moments when he almost forgot why he was there, that makes it move on and look further and fight shoulder to shoulder with his brother and a friend, with his family. At times when he just wanted to make it all over. Hope that this is the end of it all can be completed once and for all, no matter which way ... just do not wake up the monster, demon, just to avoid causing more pain to anyone, not to kill, not tear, does not suffer...

But now there was no end to it, there was a break and stop. Only short hours and minutes between the search of Cain and endless attempts to pacify the bloodthirsty beast, euthanize bludlast inside Dean, giving the mark what it wants. Death, blood, murder, pleasure and ecstasy ringing. The only possible way for them. Hunting.

It was Sam's idea. Probably brilliant idea, Dean could not agree more. Kill monsters to quench the thirst of blood poisoned hunter dying to give him a little more time, one more time, one more day. To mark again could not swallow it completely and turn into a monster. What could be better in this situation. And Dean was alive, and the mark happy and monsters slowly subsided. While there, the monsters just subsided very quickly. Dean, fueled by the power of the mark and the blade, chopping them into the cabbage almost without stopping for extra inspiration. Sam raised all contacts familiar hunters to learn about every new monster wandering around faster than they can, it was a plan, he pioneered the route from one creature to another, drawing a short track between the cities, where they had the misfortune to appear.

And they swept, from hunting to hunting. Sped away for a while from their bunker, but probably taking half the library that helped Sam dragged through large and small town, sleeping in motels, slept in the car. Searched, studied, investigated, chased and killed. Just like old times. Were together, shared the same room for two, were closer than ever for many, many years since the beginning of their journey in search of his father.

Probably , it was almost like happiness for Dean. A variation of the ideal life. One of his personal paradise. Place where he was, brother, and the road in pursuit of the monsters in motion on their way to their destination, their work and destiny. They were a real family. They talked a lot. They spent a lot of time just being physically close to each other, just listening to the regular breathing in the darkness of the night, unconsciously echoing him, merging and repeating. As now Dean stood and listened, not even turning away from the window, not even looking at Sam, he felt... felt part of the family, part of something bigger than himself, part of something whole. He was whole.

Poisoned, occasionally coughing and dying in his own blood or going crazy on the strength of the blade, but the whole.

In the morning they go again. Somewhere near Sam already found unfortunate werewolf terrorizing villagers. And then they will go into the den, or rather palace of Magnus, mad collector holder supernatural artifacts and the largest library of spells that put Dean in the arm blade, just before his own death. Sam hoped to find there useful spells to search or call Cain. It made sense. Rummage bins worth it for that. Dean's task this time was not to die. Is not easy, but it is quite feasible. Main quickly find this wool -eating bastard and plunge the blade into it ... Dean shivered shiver ran through his body. He felt like a drug addict dying from breaking, the only salvation which was to take another dose, he did not want and would at the same time, it saves him and killed at the same time.

The main thing is not to be mistaken, the main hold until take up his weapon. The last time it was so bad, it was in the beginning it seems Sam has carried him to the monster only because Dean did not want to take the time before the blade in his hands, and when he could not manage, and almost a little disabled, felt as the blade was embedded in his arm. It was fucking stupid, Dean could not help but recognize. Just fatally stupid. Because the monster was Wendigo, and they were in the woods and Dean Sam warned in advance about his condition... Well, at the moment when they finally got to it, do not hesitate to Wendigo planned to dismantle parts of both Winchester and remnants hang on trees around. Dean at seeing how skinny clawed figure rushes to Sam, it remains only one thing, sewn in his subconscious, put his body between them getting all blows over, but stabbed him in his blade. And it was a complete mess. And it was a complete mess. Sam certainly burned fatally wounded creature to finish the job, but then gave to Dean an angry conversation, for his nonsense. Sam shook his wounded bloodied body, screaming something about the fact that he no longer has to sacrifice himself that he no longer has to die so that he has just become a demon again and will only get worse. Many things still shouting at him. But Dean did not argue and did not swear back because Sam was right. Because looking at his anxious eyes, feeling as he bandages lacerations from the claws, drags him back to the Impala parked somewhere on a clearing, they knew that he was right. He knew he should do now. He understood that it is necessary now to keep yourself under control, his thirst, his anger, his pain. Everything had to be under control. Because now it makes sense, now it has a purpose and a reason to live another day.

Sam helped him in this. From nowhere, from what his secret pockets he pulled Dean for his old Egyptian amulet, horned god on a leather cord. That's what Dean threw losing last hope and faith. That's what Sam picked ... and back then when his brother most needed faith and hope.

And Dean was leaning against the cold window back and looked at his brother, clutching the amulet hanging on his chest near the heart. Looking at its meaning, a reason for its move on.

Live another day ...


End file.
